


mamma mia (here we go again)

by divorceadvocate



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: 2 sips??? not enough to actually get even close to tipsy, Heist, Jealousy, M/M, Other, Violence, alcohol mention: they order wine at a restaurant and drink a little but literally just like, god this fic is SO MUCH, i overdescribe outfits like a fic writer from 2012, nureyev gets flirted with and hes not Comfy with it but he gets to fuck them up later so its fine, nureyev is a slut! good for him, the roses return...., the tags of this seem ominous and bad but i promise the tone of this is very lighthearted, things go wrong: the musical, thought it was worth tagging anyways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:40:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25578196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divorceadvocate/pseuds/divorceadvocate
Summary: “Are you nervous?” Juno asked, reaching behind himself to pull one of the belts across his back to buckle at his shoulder.“Never,” Nureyev said, glancing at Juno. The light bounced off of the metallic rims of his glasses. “Are you?”“No,” Juno lied. “I think it’ll run smoothly.”Nureyev smiled, capping the lipstick and wrapping his arms around Juno’s waist, buckling the last belt. “Of course it will. Now, are you going to wear that gold eyeliner I bought for you last week-”“I still highly doubt that you actually bought it-”“-or are you going to continue ogling me in the mirror?”
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel, Rita & Juno Steel
Comments: 33
Kudos: 161





	mamma mia (here we go again)

**Author's Note:**

> i started this fic in JANUARY can you fucking believe that?????????? ohmy GOD. i hope u enjoy my uhhhh 5ish months of work lmao
> 
> DOES THE TITLE REALLY FIT THE FIC?? NO. DID IT MAKE ME LAUGH MY ASS OFF WHEN SATS SUGGESTED IT?? YES.

“The goal here is to not get noticed. You need to blend into the crowd, which is why Ransom is going along on this mission,” Buddy explained, tapping on her screen to expand the size of the projection in the tiny kitchen.The whole Carte Blanche crew was positioned around their little table, waiting for the Captain’s instructions. The projection showed a map of the restaurant on Jupiter that they would be sneaking into. It showed multiple rooms, sections, levels, secret compartments and such. Juno, who was sitting next to the man in question with a mug of coffee that he desperately wished was stronger. He watched as Nureyev’s eyes danced across the projection, already beginning to memorize the floor plan.

“You all will enter through the front, and request a table for three. This restaurant is high-end, so you need to act like you’re rich enough to belong there, but not important enough to turn any heads or have a reservation. It’s vital that you aren’t seated in the V.I.P. section, as the security is severe, and it’s furthest from the kitchen where you will be infiltrating. When there’s an opening, you need to find a way for all three of you to enter the kitchen without raising suspicion. After that, the only real trouble will be anyone guarding the inner room.” 

Buddy pointed to a square on the map. “The room you’ll be entering here is heavily guarded. While I do believe in your skill, Ransom, I think it would be advisable to have Juno go as well to help you take down security. Intel tells us they have blasters and laserproof clothing, so I trust you two to figure out how to attack based on that.”

She gestured to Rita, who was sitting between Juno and Jet. She was practically vibrating with excitement, eyes almost as wide as her face-splitting grin. Buddy continued, “After you take down the guards, you need to make sure no one enters the room after Rita. It is vital that no one disturbs her while she hacks into the computer system. We have one shot to find what we’re looking for. If any of you get injured, draw attention to yourselves, or don’t let Rita finish, this could all end here.

“Vespa and I will be monitoring the situation from above, and Jet will be waiting several streets down in the Ruby7 to assist in your escape. Any questions?”

Juno raised his hand, which earned him a scowl from Vespa, a half-hidden smirk from Nureyev, and an endearing smile from Buddy. 

“Yes, darling?”   
  
“Yeah, uh, how the hell am I supposed to pronounce this name? Is it um-pire? Oom-pire?” Juno asked, squinting at the fake I.D. that he’d been handed. 

“It’s um-pee-air,” Nureyev said, leaning over to see the name Juno was looking at. 

Buddy shook her head. “You can pronounce it however you like,  _ Quince _ , it’s your name.”

“Quince Umpierre,” Juno grumbled, going with Nureyev’s pronunciation. “How come everyone else gets easy names to pronounce?”

Nureyev, or, as his own fake I.D. proclaimed him to be, Rue Spade, laughed. “You’re supposed to be a stuffy academic, dear, I think the name fits the bill.” 

Rita was nearly bouncing off of the walls. “Oooh, I love my new name! Phoebe Finch has such a nice ring to it, dontcha think?” she exclaimed to no one in particular.

Buddy waved her hand to draw the attention of the room back to her. “I’m so glad you like your name, Rita. But are there any other pressing matters that need to be addressed? Because, ideally, I’d like for us to depart in fourty-five minutes, and I need to ensure that you all understand the plan and the importance of following it." 

“I think we’re all good here,  _ Mom _ ,” Juno said sarcastically, his finger running along the top of the mug. Vespa raised an eyebrow at him and he flushed. “I was joking! It was a joke. I don’t think Buddy is like, my  _ mom _ or anything,  _ don’t look at me like that—” _

“Well, we are a family,” Jet intercepted. “I don’t see anything wrong with you perceiving Buddy as a mother figure.”

Juno’s cheeks felt like they were on fire, and the snickering that Nureyev was trying to hide wasn’t exactly helping. “I was  _ joking, _ again, and I don’t see her as a mother figure. She’s my captain, and—and  _ shut up, Ransom—” _

After they all had finished teasing Juno, Buddy sent them to get dressed for their heist. Juno squinted in the mirror as he pulled on his clothes, feeling suffocated in his high-neck shirt that had far too many ruffles in it for his liking.

“She shouldn’t have given me white, I’m gonna get blood on this,” he mumbled. “Zip me up?” 

Then Nureyev was behind him, already fully dressed, pulling up the zipper on with those slender fingers of his. He looked stunning, because he was Peter Nureyev, and he always looked stunning. The high-low skirt he wore had probably several pounds of violet tulle layered on top of it, and the black lace shirt he wore provided little to no actual coverage and let Juno see the skin that peeked out from underneath. He pressed a kiss to the nape of Juno’s neck before adjusting the shirt to cover the dark lipstick mark that he had left there. 

“I’ll make sure your shirt remains pristine throughout this operation,” he said, running a hand through Juno’s hair in a way that sent shivers down his spine. “Now get your pants on before Buddy accuses me of  _ distracting _ you again.”

Juno pulled on the pants Buddy provided. They were a shiny black, with many, many belts decorating the legs and stretching across his chest. He felt like he was strapping himself into a rollercoaster with far too many seat belts. He watched Nureyev in the mirror, watched him reapplying his lipstick, fussing with his cupid’s bow to make sure it remained sharp. 

“Are you nervous?” Juno asked, reaching behind himself to pull one of the belts across his back to buckle at his shoulder. 

“Never,” Nureyev said, glancing at Juno. The light bounced off of the metallic rims of his glasses. “Are you?”

“No,” Juno lied. “I think it’ll run smoothly.” 

Nureyev smiled, capping the lipstick and wrapping his arms around Juno’s waist, buckling the last belt. “Of course it will. Now, are you going to wear that gold eyeliner I bought for you last week-”

“I still highly doubt that you actually bought it-”

“-or are you going to continue ogling me in the mirror?”

Juno grimaced, reaching back to swat Nureyev away. Nureyev simply caught his wrist, pressing a small kiss to his palm. Juno cast his gaze upwards. 

“I was not  _ ogling _ you-”

“Sure, Juno.”

“Put on your coat, you slut.”

Nureyev let go of Juno, slipping on a large white trench coat. It was gorgeous, with an embroidered picture of a lion in golds and purples across the back. He stepped into his white heels that were higher than anything Juno would ever feel comfortable wearing, and then turned to Juno. “I’m sure Rita is ready by now. Shall we go?”

Juno shook his head. “I need to add a few finishing touches, I’ll meet you out there.” Nureyev nodded, and took his leave with one last touch to Juno’s shoulder before he was gone.

Juno stared at his reflection. It stared back at him with one tired eye. 

“We’ll be okay,” he mumbled under his breath, reaching for the aforementioned gold eyeliner that was on the dresser and drew the brush along his eyelid. He noticed his heeled boots were the same color as his eyeliner as he sat down to put them on. Buddy was always a stickler for details. 

“We’ll be okay,” he said again, casting his gaze back up to himself. Nureyev was right, the eyeliner did bring out the yellow flecks in his eye. He pulled himself up off of the floor and left the room to join the others where they waited for him. 

Jet was already in the Ruby7, and Rita and Nureyev were positioned outside of it. Nureyev was leaning against the hood nonchalantly, while Rita ran to meet Juno, grabbing his hands and bouncing up and down.

“Mista STEEL! You look so pretty in that shirt, ooh, and the  _ ruffles! _ But look, look what Miss Buddy picked out for me!” She let go of Juno and twirled. Her dress was a canary yellow with purple flowers printed all over it. It was a rather obnoxious print, and Rita was beaming with joy to be wearing it. “Isn’t it  _ so cute?!  _ It kinda reminds me of the curtains in that one stream we watched together, the one where that lady got murdered in her living room and it turned out to be the butler who did it—”

“Wait, wait, the  _ butler _ did it?”

“Uh, yeah! They revealed it in episode six?”

Juno’s eye widened. “Rita! I was only on episode four! You watched ahead of me? We agreed to watch it together!”   
  


“Ooh, Mista Steel, I’m so sorry but I just couldn’t resist, it was getting so juicy and I couldn’t wait for you to finish it, plus you’re always with Mista Ransom—”

Nureyev cleared his throat. “Can we hash this out later? We have a heist to pull off.”

Juno nodded. “Fine. But, just so you know Rita, the butler is sleeping with the brother.”

Rita’s affronted gasp could’ve shattered a window. “Mista  _ STEEL,  _ where on Mars did you—”

“Jet told me.”

Rita’s curses and yelling about ‘how  _ dare  _ you spoil my favorite stream for me’ was background noise to the three of them climbing into the car. Juno was in the front seat, leaving Rita and Nureyev in the back together. Jet started the car almost immediately, and they peeled out towards the restaurant like a bat out of hell. 

“Rita, if you don’t mind me asking, what size shoe do you wear?” Nureyev asked tentatively, peering down at her shoes. 

“Size three! Well, in kid’s sizes, I can’t fit into those big shoes like you can,” she explained, holding up her foot, gripping her ankle to keep it up. It had a patent leather Mary-Jane shoe on it, and she wiggled it in the air, showing it off. “But that’s fine by me, they have much cuter shoes anyways.”

Nureyev looked appalled. “You’re so small,” he said softly, more to himself than anyone else.

Juno just shrugged, watching this exchange over his shoulder. “You could probably pick Rita up and chuck her across Jupiter without breaking a sweat. We don’t even need the Ruby7, we can just throw her wherever we need her to be.”

“ _ Mista Steel, don’t you even joke about that-” _

“Oh, I’m not joking, imagine how much we’d save on fuel.”

“ _ MISTA STEEL—” _

They made it to the restaurant with only minimal bickering, stepping out of the Ruby7 in front of a rather large establishment that declared itself to be  _ The Sapphire Boulevard _ in a giant, looping cursive font. Everything seemed to be made from a shining midnight blue material, somewhere between sea glass and obsidian. The glass walls easily showed the group the interior of the restaurant, people with far more money than Juno ever could’ve dreamed of having dining on food that he probably couldn’t even pronounce. He was scared to even open the door for fear of shattering it upon impact, so it was a good thing there was a hostess at the front who was there to open it for them. Only Nureyev seemed to be used to this treatment, giving her a curt nod and stepping inside with little other acknowledgment of her existence. Juno tried not to look too hard at the high ceilings inside that were painted with portraits of angels and saints, at the diamond chandeliers, and Rita made no attempt to do so, openly staring at the opulence around them. 

There was another host at the front behind a grand, black table, holding a tablet. “Good evening,” they greeted them. “Do you have a reservation with us tonight?”

Nureyev shook his head. “Ah, no, I’m afraid we don’t.”

The host nodded, tapping a few buttons on his tablet. “Well, it looks like a wait for a table of three will be about fifteen minutes, unless you have more people joining your party tonight?”   
  
Nureyev shook his head once more. “No, just the three of us. This is all a bit last minute, I’m afraid, my good friend Phoebe here just came into town and well, we just had to—”

“Duke? Duke Rose?”

Hearing that name made Juno feel like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water over his head, and, judging from the way Nureyev’s lips pressed into a thin line and his spine stiffened, he felt a similar way. They turned to see a man walking towards their party with long strides, a huge smile across his face. The man in question wore a dazzling suit entirely covered in sapphires, his long hair pulled back into an intricate braided hairstyle. He was about a foot taller than Juno, with curves that rivaled Buddy’s. The sight of him made Nureyev paler than a ghost.

“Duke!” The man shouted, picking up the pace and half-jogging towards them. “I can’t believe this, it’s been so long, how the hell are ya?!” He placed a hand on Nureyev’s shoulder in a way that was a little too familiar, the other hand resting at his hip, burying itself into the many layers of tulle that were there. Nureyev looked like he was about to throw up, but managed a smile despite himself. 

“Oh! Verity, I—I had no idea that you—what are you  _ doing  _ here?” Nureyev asked, his panic just barely disguised. 

The man apparently named Verity just laughed. “I own this place, silly! Oh, you haven’t changed at all, you’re just as beautiful as you were when—” For the first time he seemed to notice Juno and Rita. The light in Verity's eyes seemed to dim slightly. "Oh, who are your friends, Duke?" 

Juno knew Nureyev well by this point. He could tell what was running through his head even when most people seemed to see only a neutral expression. He was rearranging their plan in his head, throwing away sultry and bratty Rue Spade for another day and once again donning the persona of Duke Rose, rich and doting husband to— 

"Dahlia Rose, my wonderful wife," Nureyev said, smiling widely as he pulled Juno closer by the waist. Juno, or Dahlia, rather, gave Verity a smile that was more smug than anything else. 

Verity's grin slipped for a moment before it came back in full force, a blinding shield that made Juno want to squint. "Oh! I wasn't aware you were married...?" 

"Ah, yes, five years now! We couldn't be happier," Nureyev said.

Verity nodded, looking stunned. He shook it off, casting his gaze down to Rita, who looked utterly bewildered. "And who is this?" 

Fuck. Who  _ was  _ Rita? Phoebe Finch was the persona they'd assigned her, but it made no sense for a woman with a biology major to be with the Roses, notorious for their gambling and their wealth made from little to no work. Juno was drawing blanks, and he turned to Nureyev, desperate for an answer to Verity's question. 

Nureyev, laid a hand on Rita's shoulder, and, calm and collected as anything, answered, "This is Daisy, our beautiful daughter." 

_ What the fuck.  _

Juno and Rita both turned to Nureyev with wide eyes that begged, ' _ What the fuck?'  _ He looked back at them with eyes that pleaded, ' _ Please just go along.' _

"Oh, isn't she just precious! How old are you, sweetheart?" Verity asked, bending over to look Rita in the eyes. 

"She's 12," said Nureyev at the same time that Juno said, "She's 11." Rita was in enough shock that she was, for once, quiet.

Juno turned sharply to Nureyev, eyes narrowed. “Just because we’re celebrating her birthday today doesn’t mean that it  _ is  _ her birthday.” He turned to Verity to say, “Her birthday is technically tomorrow, but we have a prior engagement that day, isn’t that right, Duke?” Nureyev nodded, squeezing Juno’s waist in a silent,  _ ‘Thank you for saving our asses’.  _

“Yes, of course, Dahlia dear. She’s 11.”

Verity didn’t seem to care either way, though he did perk up at the mention of a birthday. “Oh! You’re celebrating? Well, you must have the best seats in the house, it’s only fair. VIP table, next to the window where you can see the beautiful rolling hills of mist. How does that sound, little Daisy?”

Juno’s mind instantly jumped to Buddy, to her explicitly telling them to make sure they weren’t seated in the VIP section, the one crawling with guards that would halt their heist before it even started. “I don’t think that’s necessary—” he started, before being cut off with a wave from Verity. 

“Nonsense! Don’t you want the best protection for your little girl?” 

Shit. There was no way to say no to the VIP offer now without seeming like an asshole. Juno tried in vain to think of excuses, but any that he thought of would make no sense, contradict everything they’d said already, or make Verity suspicious of their true intentions. 

Nureyev seemed to have the same thought because he said, reluctantly, “Well, I suppose—”

“Great! Follow me, then,” Verity said, grabbing two menus from the poor host who was trying to seat their party, and walked them to a table that was next to a throng of guards, very far from the kitchen, and right in the middle of the restaurant. Literally everything they didn’t want. Juno was ready to pull his hair out, and Nureyev looked to be in a similar state. 

Verity sat them at the table and placed their menus in front of them, then gave Rita a coloring page with crayons. She took them with such enthusiasm that Juno couldn’t tell if it was part of the act or not, immediately opening the box and doodling on the paper menu. 

“I’ll send your waiter over right away, but, ah, I’ll come to check up on you. I try to do it for all of our VIP guests, but I’ll make some extra time for you,” Verity purred, laying a hand on Nureyev’s shoulder and rubbing his thumb into the skin next to the lapel of his coat. Nureyev’s entire body stiffened and a flush spread across his cheeks. 

Juno wanted to shove one of Rita’s crayons down his throat. 

“Thank you, Verity, really,” Nureyev said, smiling and subtly shifting from his grip. “Tell the waiter to bring a wine menu, will you?” A clear dismissal, and Verity, thank god, seemed to take the hint, grinning and turning on his heel towards the kitchen. 

As soon as he was out of sight, Juno turned on Nureyev with eyes wild with anger. “Duke Rose? What the hell?! I thought you didn’t re-use aliases?”

Nureyev sighed, leaning forward on the table on his elbows, rubbing his temples and squeezing his eyes shut. “Yes, well. I used Duke Rose several years before I met you, Juno, and met Verity. He and I... well. The point is, he became very good friends with Duke Rose, and I needed his connections to get us a room at the casino we visited. It was just easier to use the same alias to ensure no confusion between parties.”

“ _ Good friends _ ,” Juno scoffed. “Yeah, you guys seem real close—”

“Juno—”

“—now, how the hell are we supposed to pull this off? Our entire plan is basically shot, and now we have the owner of the restaurant on our asses and watching our every move.”   
  
“Yes,  _ thank you, Juno.  _ I’m thinking,” Nureyev said, looking at the menu and attempting to act normal, like he was just a husband out with his wife and child. Speaking of children.

“Also, what was that? Was Rita being an 11 year old really the best lie you could come up with?!” Juno asked, gesturing to Rita, who was still furiously doodling on her menu that offered her delectable options such as chicken tenders and apple juice. 

“Well, she’s playing the part rather well,” Nureyev said, before being cut off by their waiter coming to their table. 

“Hello, ladies and gentleman, I’ll be your waiter for the evening, can I start you off with anything to drink tonight?” The waiter placed two wine menus on the table with a flourish, but barely had time to pull out his tablet to take down their orders before Nureyev handed them back to him. 

“I’ll have a sauvignon blanc, and my lovely wife will have a merlot. And our darling little Daisy will just have water.”

Rita looked up from her frantic scribbling and frowned. “No, I want chocolate milk.”

Nureyev gave her a strained smile. “Oh, but Daisy, remember what the dentist said about having too much sugar—”

Juno rolled his eyes. “Oh, come off it, Duke, it’s her birthday, let the girl have a little chocolate milk. Waiter, give her chocolate milk.”   
  
The waiter nodded, jotting down their orders. “That’ll be out in just a moment,” they said, turning and walking away. As soon as he was out of sight, Rita slapped her crayon on the table, glaring at Nureyev in a way that made Juno thank whoever the fuck was up there that that gaze wasn't directed at him. 

"Mistah Ransom!" she whisper-shouted at him. "First of all, I am  _ very  _ mad that you would disrespect me like this, I am  _ older  _ than both of you, and you treat me like a child! Literally! I'm also a little bit flattered that you think I look so young but that  _ isn't  _ the point!" 

Nureyev was sweating bullets, tugging at his collar. "Now, Rita, I sincerely apologize, but what's done is done and we need a plan, and we need it n—" 

"Oh, I already have a plan!" Rita chirped, smiling brightly and sliding her menu to Nureyev. "It's all there!" 

Juno leaned over to see what Rita's plan was. It was a drawing of a turtle with sunglasses reclining in a lawn chair on a beach. 

Nureyev frowned. "This is a nice illustration, dear, but what's the pla-" 

“The plan is  _ right there,  _ just let her explain it.”

Rita cleared her throat. “Okay, so. Mistah Ransom already has the connection to the owner, right? All he needs to do is get himself alone with him, get him distracted and keep him distracted, get the attention off of me and Mistah Steel. Once they’re both gone, I’ll have an allergic reaction and Mistah Steel will cause a big old ruckus to get us back into the kitchen. Once we’re there, Mistah Steel will demand to talk to someone in private. Maybe he wants to talk to the manager about insurance or lawyers, or whatever. This gives Mistah Steel and me the opportunity to get away without making anyone suspicious. Once we’re alone in the backroom with this guy, Mistah Steel will knock him out and I’ll hack the computer, and we’ll walk out with what we came here for!”   
  


Juno nodded, though his mouth was set in a thin line as he listened. “Okay. Yeah, this could work, I guess, but—”

“Whaddya mean,  _ could?  _ It’s perfect, and—”

“Sure, but does Ransom really need to be getting friendly with Verity?!” Juno’s face was steadily growing redder and redder, and he knew it, and he knew Nureyev knew it. 

“If Mistah Ransom is okay with it, then I think it’s what he needs to do. We need to get Verity’s eyes off of us, and there’s no better way to do it. It’s not like he’s drooling over  _ you, _ Mistah Steel. He’s practically begging to be distracted by Mistah Ransom.”

They both turned to look at Nureyev, who looked, for just half of a moment, like a deer caught in the headlights. As quickly as the expression was there, it was gone. He sighed and his face fell into a cool, calm mask of indifference, and he dabbed at his lips with a napkin, despite having not eaten anything. 

“I suppose I’ll grin and bear it,” Nureyev said. “I’ve done worse to accomplish a heist.” The casualness with which he said that made Juno’s stomach twist, and he tried his best to ignore it and not think about what ‘worse’ meant. 

“Okay. Cool. Great,” Juno said, gritting his teeth and tapping his fingers against the menu. 

Nureyev’s brow furrowed, and he leaned towards Juno slightly, placing his hand over Juno’s. His touch was warm, reassuring, and it calmed his nerves just slightly. 

“Are  _ you _ okay with this?” he asked, and Juno let out a half-hearted chuckle. He had no reason to be not okay with it; he and Nureyev were together now, and what mattered was their future and what choices they would make together, not the ones he made in the past or would make today. That wouldn’t be Nureyev flirting with Verity, it would be Duke Rose, it would be an act. He knew deep down, what they had was real, probably the realest thing Nureyev had had in years.

“Yeah,” Juno sighed. “Yeah, the mission is more important than us. That’s fine.” Nureyev smiled, and it wasn’t Duke Rose’s smile. 

“Excellent! Then I think this plan will go off without a hitch, Miss Rita, trusting that you and Juno are good enough actors,” Nureyev said, and Rita glowed.

Their waiter came back, and they had to fall into their roles once more. Rita started circling the differences between two pictures printed on her menu, Nureyev straightened up and adjusted his ear cuff, and Juno just continued to sulk. He placed their drinks in front of them, the two glasses of wine and the chocolate milk. 

“Are you ready to order?” 

“Yes, I think we’re ready. I’ll have a grilled Neptunian salad, no dressing, with a side of aloe crisps.” Nureyev rattled off his order like he said it every day, and handed the menu to the waiter, who turned to Juno. Juno realized very suddenly that he had barely glanced at his own menu. 

“Um.” He looked over the options, all words that he could barely pronounce and prices he could barely fathom. “I’ll have the... fish?”

“Which one, madam?”

Juno grimaced. “Surprise me?” 

“Very well. And for the little one?”

“Can I get the peanut butter and jelly sammie, thank you!” Rita barely looked up from her scribbling, and the waiter nodded, jotting down their orders. 

“Those will be right out. Can I get you anything while you wait?” Juno opened his mouth to answer, but Nureyev beat him to the chase. 

“No, that will be all,” he said, not even looking at the waiter as he picked up his glass to take a sip. The waiter nodded, turning and walking back to the kitchen. 

Juno looked over at Nureyev, narrowing his eyes. “You don’t need to be  _ rude, _ ” he hissed. 

Nureyev simply shrugged. “It’s a part of the act, my love, Duke Rose doesn’t concern himself with people like  _ him.” _

“Fine, but we’re still giving him a good tip,” Juno griped, leaning back in his seat and messing with the frilly cuffs of his shirt. 

“Don’t pout, Dahlia.” 

Before Juno could argue with him that he wasn’t  _ pouting _ , he was  _ brooding,  _ Verity fucking Sapphire came over, twirling his dumb braid around his pointer figure. 

“And how is my  _ favorite  _ table doing?” Verity asked, standing far too close to them, his waist brushing against Nureyev’s shoulder, leaning into his touch. Juno saw Nureyev stiffen for half of a second, before he forced his body to relax, to lean back into Verity. 

“We’re doing wonderfully, Verity,” Nureyev said, putting on his most dastardly and charming smile. “Though I’m doing much better now that you’re here.”

Verity laughed. “Oh, you were always a flatterer.” He lifted a hand to run it through Nureyev’s hair, like he was a cat, and Nureyev closed his eyes and hummed. 

“Oh, that feels nice,” he said wistfully. “I haven’t had anyone do that since—” A practiced expression of embarrassment crossed Nureyev’s face, and he turned and coughed, a perfect picture of shame, longing for something he shouldn’t have. “Well,” he said. “Since... you know.”

Juno suppressed an urge to leave the restaurant entirely. It’s fine, this was fine, this was  _ the plan.  _ His fists balled up in his lap, and he stared intently at the way Rita was sucking down her chocolate milk. Wow, she was thirsty. 

Nureyev’s yearning was faked, something he probably practiced in the mirror, but the yearning in Verity was real, realer than his too-white teeth. His hand moved from Nureyev’s hair, but still stayed at the nape of his neck, playing with the little wisps that grew there. 

“I didn’t think you would still remember that we...” Verity trailed off after he looked over at Juno, at  _ Dahlia _ , and his hand pulled away finally. 

“Anyways. I will make sure that your food arrives as soon as possible. Wouldn’t want to keep the birthday girl waiting, hm?” Verity shot what he probably thought was a winning smile at Rita, who stared blankly back at him with a mouthful of chocolate milk puffing up her cheeks like a frog. “Right,” he muttered, gave them all a stiff smile, and turned on his heel and away to bother some other table. 

“Don’t,” Nureyev said. 

“Don’t  _ what?”  _ Juno demanded, brow furrowing. 

“Don’t get all angry and indignant, you agreed to this plan,” he responded coolly. 

“I  _ agreed, _ but that doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Juno mumbled. “Rita, give me a crayon.” She handed him one and ripped off a piece of her menu for Juno to doodle on. He doodled planets on it, sloppy circles and dots that were meant to be stars. Space was never something he was particularly fascinated by before, but now that it was his view every day, he found that he loved watching the celestial bodies move around the Carte Blanche. It made him feel small, but also like he was actually a part of something. It was a strange kind of comfort. 

Nureyev pretended not to watch the two of them, sipping his wine and preening, glancing over his shoulder probably to lock eyes with Verity a few times. Juno wasn’t sure, because he was trying not to pay too much attention to...  _ that _ whole situation. 

After a few minutes of this, Nureyev let out a tortured sigh, his shoulders slumping. “Can I also have a crayon, Miss Daisy?”

“Of course, Mistah Ransom. You want some paper too?”

“No, thank you, I have some in my coat.”

Juno paused in his messy recreation of the solar system to watch Nureyev for a few moments. Sure enough, he had scrap paper in his pocket, and he laid it out upon the table like he was unveiling some top secret blueprints. He watched him draw, Nureyev’s teeth digging into his tongue as he sketched, intensely concentrated. It was cute. 

Once he seemed satisfied with his drawing, he leaned over to Juno. “What do you think?” Nureyev asked hesitantly, showing him his paper. 

Juno squinted at it with his good eye, trying to figure out what exactly the drawing was of. There was a big circle, a mess of squiggles at the top, and several incomprehensible lines and dots in the middle of the circle. 

“Uh. It’s. It’s nice. Abstract,” Juno settled on. 

“Abstract? I thought it was rather realistic,” Nureyev said, sounding puzzled. 

“ _ Um.  _ No! No, it definitely is, I can tell that you... that you, uh... I like the... circle... bit?” 

Nureyev frowned. “Do you know what it is?”

“...no.”

Nureyev’s eyes flitted to the table across from them, his next words barely audible. “Well, it was supposed to be  _ you. _ ” 

Juno felt a lot of emotions just then. If he had to name them, they would be called, ‘ _ oh my God, I’m so in love with him’ _ , and ‘ _ he’s so cute’, _ and ‘ _ why do I feel like I’m in middle school again?’.  _ He opened his mouth to say one of those things, but what came out instead was a softly mumbled, “Idiot.” He leaned up to kiss him on the cheek, probably messing up Nureyev’s foundation. 

“Don’t get too friendly, I’m supposed to be seducing a mark,” Nureyev said, but his hand still found Juno’s on top of the table and squeezed. 

“Oh, I think the forbidden romance with a married man is part of the appeal,” Juno said. 

“ _ Awwwwwwwwwww!!!” _

Fuck, he nearly forgot Rita was here. They both nearly jumped out of their skins like they were teenagers caught making out behind a dumpster, breaking apart and grabbing their respective crayons. 

“You two are just the  _ cutest  _ in the  _ whole galaxy! _ ” Rita said, resting her chin in her hands. 

“Keep your voice down,  _ Daisy, _ ” Juno snapped, hunching back over to finish shading his drawing of Saturn. Nureyev just spun his crayon between his fingers, staring at the grain of the table. 

Their food came soon after. Nureyev’s plate was a colorful and elegant array of foods arranged artfully that smelled twice as good as it looked. Rita’s was a simple sandwich on a tiny plate. Juno’s was the biggest out of all of them, a massive platter with a whole fish on it that was drowning in sauce. He winced at how big the meal was, knowing that he was not planning on eating even half of it and mourning the food he’d be wasting. 

“I guess I did tell them to surprise me,” he grumbled, picking up his fork and picking at the meat. He didn’t even  _ like  _ fish. 

They had only eaten a few light bites of their food (except Rita, who had scarfed down her entire sandwich in about five seconds) when Verity came over again, oozing elitism. 

“How does everything taste, Duke darling?” he asked, completely ignoring Juno and Rita. Juno prepared himself for the worst brown-nosing he would ever see in his life, but to his surprise, Nureyev’s nose wrinkled in disgust. 

“Quite honestly, Verity? I’ve had better.” 

Verity’s sparkling grin slipped a little. “Oh...?”

“Yes, I—” Nureyev put down his fork and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “—I’d actually like to lodge a formal complaint with the owner. In private, preferably.” 

Ah. So that was his game. 

Verity caught on quickly, quicker than Juno thought he would. “Oh, would you? Well, if it’s that serious of a concern, I’m sure I could arrange a private meeting to discuss the matter in the back.” 

“That would be lovely, Mr. Sapphire,” Nureyev said, and that look of disgust left as quickly as it came. He was grinning now, all sharp teeth and danger, his hand lifted up to Verity. Verity took it, helped Nureyev out of his seat. “I’ll be just a moment, Dahlia, Daisy. We just have some professional matters to discuss.” 

Once Nureyev was standing, Verity’s arm instantly slipped around his waist, tugging him close against his body like he was nothing but arm candy. As they walked off towards the kitchen entrance, Juno heard Nureyev’s haughty laughter at a joke that was probably not funny, and, “Oh, you’re still just as bad as you were the day we met!”

“Mistah Steel, you’re gonna snap that fork in half.” 

“Hm? Oh.” Juno put down the fork he was holding, smoothing out his shirt, fidgeting with the straps that lay across his chest. “I just don’t trust that Sapphire guy.”

“Mistah Ransom is a big boy,” Rita reassured him. “Are you gonna eat that?”

“No, knock yourself out. How long are we waiting until you fake that allergic reaction?”

Rita looked up from a forkful of fish. “Until I what?”

“Rita. The plan? Where you fake the allergic reaction as a distraction so that we can get into the kitchen. I know you can be spacey, but this was  _ your _ plan.”

She blinked. “Who said I was gonna _ fake _ a reaction?”

“What?”

“I’m allergic to strawberry jelly, so I ordered the sandwich so it could be as realistic as possible!”

“ _ What?” _

“Don’t worry, it ain’t that bad! My throat and my cheeks swell up real big but I can usually still kind of breathe!”

“ _ Rita, what the hell?!  _ You could die! You could actually die on this mission that was supposed to be foolproof, but I guess that’s a generous term since we’re all apparently a bunch of fools, fuck, I didn’t even  _ know _ you were allergic to strawberries!”

Rita reached across the table and gripped Juno by the collar. “ _ Get it togetha, Mistah Steel!”  _ Then she smacked him across the face with a loud crack that drew more than a few people's attention. “I’m the one about to start breaking out in hives any second, not you, and I’m calm as anything!”

“ _ You’re _ calm?! You just slapped me!” Juno’s voice was reaching a new high pitch he didn’t even think was possible. 

“It was for  _ dramatic effect! _ Now  _ listen to me! _ We’re going to act like everything is normal. In a few moments, I’m gonna turn all red and splotchy, and I need you to make a scene. Be hysterical! But  _ not right now.” _ Her voice was getting intense and a bit too much like a small animal growling for Juno’s taste. 

“Okay! Okay, fine. Though I  _ really  _ hope you have an EpiPen or something back on the ship.” 

“Of course I do! It’s not like they’re ultra expensive commodities, they’re available for a cheap price to the general public because healthcare shouldn’t be only for those who can afford it.” 

“I mean, that goes without saying,” Juno said. “Okay, when is this reaction happening? I don’t want to be caught off guard.” 

“Uh... in about five.”

“Five what? Minutes?’

“Four... three... two...”

“Oh, goddammit.” 

Rita’s face did a very strange thing just then. Patches of red started popping up on her skin, growing angrier and more violent by the second. It was the quickest allergic reaction Juno had ever seen, and he felt a dash of panic strike through him. The way he stood, nearly flipping over the table, and grabbed the nearest waiter didn’t require any faking of concern. 

“Ma’am—?”

“ _ What did you monsters do to my daughter?!”  _ Juno yelled, gesturing wildly to Rita who was way too collected. “Did you poison her? Slip drugs into her food?! She’s only 12 or maybe 11! You were planning on  _ killing,  _ on  _ murdering _ my child under my own nose!”

The poor waiter, who Juno was gripping by his bowtie, was sweating bullets. “Madam, I assure you, this was purely an accident, we can call an ambula—”

“No! I  _ demand _ to have a word with the chef, right now! If you don’t take me to him this  _ instant,  _ I will leave a review on Space Yelp that’s so scathing you won’t be able to find a job anywhere else unless you fake your death to erase your association with this place!  _ Now!” _

“I—I—of course, ma’am, I’ll take you and your daughter right this way—” the waiter stammered, turning and walking on shaky legs towards the kitchen. Juno grabbed Rita by her arm that was growing redder by the second and dragged her in his tow. The other guests were openly staring, and Juno tried not to panic too much about that, because he was already panicking enough. 

The waiter went to delicately open the doors to the kitchen, but before he could get there, Juno was kicking them open. His shoes against the hard metal of the doors made a loud crashing noise that echoed through the kitchen, making some of the staff nearly jump out of their skins. 

The waiter opened his mouth to explain the situation, perhaps, or maybe de-escalate it, but Juno was having none of that. 

"Where's the chef?" he yelled, looking around at the sea of employees. Most of them were scrawny, skinny, weak things. They were pretty, delicate, which was surely exactly what Sapphire wanted out of his staff. It meant that Juno could intimidate any of them easily, with his wide frame and his loud voice. He didn't like to raise his voice much anymore, but in this situation, it came in handy. He needed someone he could bully into letting him into that backroom.

The employees parted like the sea before Moses, and a man who was... much bigger than Juno stepped forward. His arms were about twice as thick as Juno's thighs, and the scars on his face were nasty, jagged things, procured during what Juno guessed was a bar fight. 

Ah. 

"Oh, of course," Juno mumbled. "You're the chef, then?"

He grunted in response. A man of few words, then.

"Well, I have reason to believe that you, sir, are trying to kill my daughter! Look at her!" Juno gestured to Rita, who cheerfully waved with a puffy, red hand. "Do you know who I am? Oh, of course you do, we are the Roses, the most powerful family on Mars, and your little plot to get us killed was never going to work. We have the most expensive lawyers—" 

Juno was almost grateful when the chef reached forward and grabbed Juno by the collar, lifted him up, and slammed his body against the nearest wall, leaving his feet dangling a foot above the floor. He was bullshitting, and that had always been Nureyev's gambit. 

"You don't think we get your type in here everyday?" the chef growled. "Prissy richies who think they can just come in and threaten my staff with lawyers and fancy words? We ain't scared of ya. That's not how we do business here. If you have a complaint, you can take it up with Mister Sapphire, you can take an EpiPen from the front, and you can leave. Got it, pretty boy?" 

If he did what the chef said, then they wouldn't have another chance to get into the kitchen again. So Juno did what he always did when he needed a quick distraction. He punched the chef right in his face. 

The chef stumbled back, and Juno fell to the floor, letting out a soft  _ oof _ as he went down. The chef fell into a huge pot of sauce simmering on the stove, and it spilled all over him and all over the floor. The kitchen was immediately thrown into chaos. People were screaming and running in random directions, some slipping in the giant pool of sauce and going down just as hard as the chef did. No one was looking at them. 

"Daisy!" Juno yelled, looking around to find Rita. She was crouched by the spilled sauce, dipping her finger into it and tasting it. 

"Needs salt!" she said to no one in particular, then stood and helped Juno up off of the floor. They both took off running towards the back, gripping each other's hands like it was the end of the world.

"They're getting away!" a waitress yelled. "I'm calling security!"

"God fucking dammit," Juno panted. 

The room was the easiest to find. There were only two rooms in the back, one that looked like an employee break room and another that looked like Verity's office. The heavily armed security guards that Buddy had referred to before their mission had started? They were nowhere to be seen. It didn’t exactly reassure him. Nonetheless, Juno swung the door open, and slammed it shut behind them, looking out the little window into the hallway. 

"Rita, find that computer and get that information quick, I don't know how much ti—"

"Fancy meeting you two here!" 

Juno turned so fast that he nearly snapped his neck, taking in the room for the first time. It was bland, a standard office for a restaurant manager, files and folder organized neatly along the walls and on the desk. And sitting on top of the desk was—

"Ransom!" 

Nureyev smirked, crossing his legs and tilting his head at Juno. 

"I just heard the  _ strangest  _ commotion out there, you wouldn't happen to know what that was about, would you?"

Juno allowed himself a breathless laugh. "Some lady barged in there and punched the chef. Think his name was Dahlia Rose."

"Well, he sounds like a fiery woman. Miss Rita, the computer is hidden behind that bookcase over there," Nureyev said, nodding towards the far wall. He shifted off of the desk to help her pull it off of the wall, and that's when Juno saw something that made his blood run cold. 

Verity Sapphire was sitting in the chair behind the desk, slumped back with his eyes glazed over, not moving. 

"Ransom, what the hell, is he dead?!"

"What? Oh, don't be ridiculous, I simply tranquilized him!" Nureyev said, his voice far too gleeful. "He led directly to this room, and dismissed the guards that were here to go on a break, though I suspect they’ll be back any second. I kept him talking for a few minutes and then when he tried to kiss me, I simply stuck one of these in the back of his neck." He held up a tiny dart pulled from nowhere, from one of his infinite pockets. Juno felt a rush of relief, more from the fact that Nureyev hadn't allowed Sapphire to kiss him than from the fact that he wasn't dead. Did that make him a bad person? Probably. Right now he had more important things to worry about. 

With Nureyev's help, they uncovered the computer, an ancient looking thing, and Rita was already hard at work. She had stuck something in one of the holes in it and was typing a bunch of little numbers and- Juno actually had no idea what she was doing. The more he watched, the dizzier he felt. 

"Rita, how long do you think you'll need?" Juno asked, leaning against the door, hand tight on the door knob handle. 

"Well, I dunno, Mistah Steel, maybe twenty minutes?" she said. Her words were muffled through her swelling lips.

"We don't have twenty minutes, make it five. Two, preferably," Juno ordered.

"Mistah Steel!" she screeched, but typed faster.

"Good lord, what happened to your face?!" Nureyev asked, bending down to peer at her bulging features and reddening skin.

Juno's brow furrowed. "Are you just now noticing?" 

"I was concerned with other faces, darling." 

"Okay, gayass. She had an allergic reaction." 

"Allergic reaction? I thought that she was  _ faking _ one-"

"Yeah, so did I!"

Nureyev went behind the desk, tilted the chair, and dumped Sapphire's unconscious body onto the floor. He shoved the empty chair under the door knob handle. 

"That should buy us a minute or so if those guards figure out we're in here," Nureyev explained, placing a reassuring hand on Juno's shoulder. Juno instinctively reached up to place his own on top of it, squeezing a quick three times in succession. "I think you should call Jet now, let him know we're about to wrap up here." 

Juno sighed, fumbling his comms out of his pocket and dialling Jet. He wasn't looking forward to being told off by the other three members of their crew for fucking up the mission this badly so far. 

"Juno. I trust the mission is going well?" Jet answered, in that calm and stoic tone that for some reason made Juno even more agitated. 

"Yeah, yeah, it's going fucking peachy, can you get here as quick as you can? We need a ride, and we kinda need it now, big guy." 

"Your word choice suggests that things aren't in fact peachy, Juno." 

"Yeah, okay, well, Ransom is more of a slut than I originally thought, I punched the chef, we’re about to be cornered by security, and Rita is about to fucking die because she's allergic to strawberries and didn't think to tell me in our over 15 years of friendship-"

"Really? Rita told me about her strawberry allergy just a few days after we met—" 

"I'm not a  _ slut _ —"

"Both of you shut up, can you get here or not, big guy?"

"I'm already on my way, Juno. I'll be there shortly." Before Juno could respond, the line disconnected. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm his nerves a little. Everything was okay, they had a few bumps along the road, but everything was working out so far. They were gonna get that information, sneak out past the chaos in the kitchen, slip away undetected, and get Rita her medicine. Easy. 

Just then, he heard a voice down the hall say, "I think they're in that room!"

Fuck. 

"Fuck," Nureyev said. "Miss Rita, you'll need to hurry up, dear." 

"I'm tryin', Mistah Ransom, but it's a little hard to hurry up when your eyes are swellin' up so much ya can't see!" Juno glanced over and sure enough, he could barely see Rita's eyes through her very swollen lids. He was too fucking old for this. 

"Goddammit, this was the worst plan we could've come up with," he groaned. Outside, the footsteps of the guards were coming up on them fast. Juno felt for his blaster and froze. 

"Ransom, I don't have my blaster," he said. 

"What? I thought you had it in your pants," Nureyev said, already holding two different knives in his hands.

"Yeah, I thought I did, too! It must have—must have slipped out when I was yelling at the waiter out there, I think I stood up too quick—" 

"You yelled at the waiter after you berated me for being ever so slightly rude to him?"

"Yes, you can yell at me about it later after we get out of here. Just cover me, okay?" 

"GOT IT!" Rita yelled triumphantly, grabbing her thingy-ma-bob and holding it aloft like a trophy. She ran towards Juno but ended up running into a wall instead because of her obscured vision. Juno cursed, scooping her up in his arms and throwing her over his shoulder. 

"Ransom, you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be, love." 

Juno shouldered the door open, and they were greeted with three security guards. They were just as big and scary as Buddy has described them, and armored to hell and back.

A lot happened at once. Nureyev swooped downwards like a vulture landing on its prey, elbowing one of the officers in the back of the knee, sending them tumbling downwards. Juno checked the second guard in the face with the palm of his hand, likely breaking his nose judging from the spray of blood. He went down easy, but nearly knocked Juno over in the process. He stepped out of the way quick enough, just dodging Nureyev's knife, which he buried into the shoulder of the third officer.

Nureyev straightened up and tried to wipe the blood from his cheek, but only succeeded in smearing it across his jaw. It grossed Juno out and made him blush in equal measure. They gave each other a quick nod and took off down the hall towards the kitchen once more, Juno following Nureyev from close behind. 

A few of the staff were mopping up the mess Juno made earlier with the sauce, and jumped when they saw the three of them not with the cops they'd called in. They started yelling, and the chef from earlier started walking towards Juno with his fists balled up.

"You hold it right there!" Rita screamed, and Juno glanced up to see his plucky secretary holding a blaster and pointing it directly at the chef. 

"Where did you even get that?!" Juno yelled. 

"I swiped it off of that pig you hit in the face! Keep your hands up, bitch!"

" _ What the hell _ —"

Before Juno could say anything, Rita had already shot. The chef ducked, and the laser blast ricocheted off of a pot that hung on the ceiling and hit one of the burners, promptly setting it on fire. 

"Shit!" The staff started yelling, clamoring for the door. "Rita, what were you thinking?!"

"I wasn't!"

"Fair enough! Ransom, get us to the door, Rita, give me the blaster!"

Rita handed it over to Juno, who pointed it at the staff while Nureyev shouldered his way through the crowd of screaming employees. The fire was spreading very quickly, catching on food and wooden spoons and aprons. Was there no fire extinguisher in this place?

Juno ran after Nureyev who was holding the doors open for them, and they ran out of the kitchen like bats out of hell. The people eating seemed alarmed, but mostly confused about all of the commotion. 

"FIRE!" someone yelled, and then there was a sudden sea of people yelling and running. Nureyev weaved seamlessly between the crowd, like he was dancing almost, and Juno was sure that he was also picking pockets along the way. Juno meanwhile was stumbling, nearly getting knocked over every two seconds, out of breath from both this much physical activity and from carrying Rita on his back, who was a lot heavier than she looked. 

Nureyev beat him to the door, of course he did, and when Juno caught up to him, panting from exertion, he looked almost elegant, standing outside the door frame while terrified people rushed past him. 

"I believe our ride is just down the block, Juno," he said, and took Juno's hand in his own. The building was fully on fire at this point, the entire place up in smoke and flames. They went towards where Jet was waiting for them, at a light jog this time, and Juno almost cried with relief when he saw the emerald green of the Ruby7 glinting in the light. 

Nureyev held the backseat door open for Juno like a slutty valet, and Juno threw Rita into the car like she was a bowling ball. He collapsed into the seat next to her, and Nureyev sat down delicately next to him. Jet reached behind his seat and handed Rita an EpiPen, which she took gratefully and stabbed into her thigh. She sighed and relaxed into the seat, scrubbing a hand over her face. 

"Fuck," Rita said. Juno and Nureyev nodded in agreement, and Jet set off for the Carte Blanche. 

They made it back to the ship with little problem, were chewed out by Buddy, and then congratulated by Buddy. Juno was only half-listening, as the adrenaline from their mission had worn off and now he was just a tired little shell of a lady. Rita was sent to the medical bay for Vespa to treat her, and Nureyev and Juno headed off to their room. 

As soon as he was inside the room, Juno collapsed onto the bed face-first. Nureyev followed his lead, laying down next to him on his back. 

"Quite the adventure, hm?" Nureyev mumbled, taking his glasses off and setting them on the bedside table. 

"What did you do with Verity?"

"Come again?"

"I hope that's not what you did."

Nureyev rolled his eyes. "It was a one night stand several years ago. Trust me, the actual attraction was one sided. I just needed to gain information from him, and he was smitten with me. It was just the easiest method to acquire it."

"Oh, I'm glad you were able to write the lube off as a business expense." 

Nureyev swatted his arm playfully. "Stop. He proposed to me the morning after, and I gave him the spiel that I couldn't possibly be with him, I was engaged to the son of a mob boss who would have me killed if I didn't return within the week, I owed the mob after running into some trouble after one too many losses at their casino, I would return to him when it was safe, yadda yadda. You know how it is."

"I kinda don't—"

"But rest assured, Juno, I felt nothing but disgust for that man and I still do." They both fell quiet as Juno reached up and ran his fingertips lightly down Nureyev's chest, his nails catching ever so slightly on the lace of his shirt. Nureyev in turn reached over, stroking Juno's cheek with his thumb. 

"Okay," Juno sighed. "I just didn't like the way he touched you."

"Oh, me neither," Nureyev said, rolling over and draping his arms around Juno's waist. "Why, are you jealous?" He was smirking, his sharp teeth poking out from between his lips. 

"No."

"Oh, I think someone is  _ jealous _ -"

"Stop-"

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, dearest-"

"I  _ will _ punch you."

"You wouldn't dare." Nureyev let up though, taking Juno's face in his hands and kissing him. It was so sweet that Juno melted under his touch, curling into his body and sighing. 

"Just promise me you don't have any other scorned lovers that we'll run into on future missions?"

"I can make no such promises."

"I hate you. Let's go shower, hm? You taste like smoke." 

**Author's Note:**

> comments in my mouth please please ple


End file.
